I was just looking through my bookshelf, and i found this very old, battered-to-the-point-of-death copy of Chamber of Secrets and was hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia (I LOVE saying that word, it has a nice ring to it). It’s missing a few pages, its spine is broken, pages are yellowing, but i still love it more than anything.
A lot of you non-potterheads wont understand this, but Harry Potter has something to it. Its more that a book, its like an entire childhood encompassed in just seven books, not Harry’s childhood, nor Ron’s or Hermione’s. Its our childhood. The childhood of those millions of people who grew up reading about a boy. And his friends. And the guy who murdered his parents. And the countless people we met in this fantastical journey of a story. It did more than just provide us with a pastime. It inspired us. It made us dream each and every night of Hogwarts. It made us weep for Dobby, for Fred, for Sirius, for Hedwig, and for Dumbledore. It made us realise that the most eccentric people can make the best of friends (courtesy Luna). It made us realise that friendship, family and love matter above anything else. And that no matter what, good will triumph over evil. That love never fades. And that Hogwarts will always be there to welcome us home.
Once a potter head, always a potter head.
After all this time?